***
The Mayor's face turned bright red. "What the hell happened?" the Mayor roared as soon as Harris closed the office door.
"I'm not entirely sure. I went over to talk to him and he wasn't at his apartment," Harris said. His voiced sounded forced and tight.
"Well, if you would've tossed him in jail like I said, we wouldn't be having this conversation." The Mayor sat down in his chair with a theatrical movement of throwing his arms in the air. "Didn't I say I didn't want this guy out on the street? Doesn't that mean go get him and drag his ass in?"
"There was no solid proof to have him arrested."
Porter slapped both hands on his desk. "What do you mean there was not proof? He was at both murder scenes wasn't he? What more do you need?"
"I think he's being set up."
Mayor Porter rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Fine. How could he be set up? Tell me your fabulous theory on how he's been set up."
Harris recounted his conversations with Eddie and McBride. To his credit, the mayor listened closely to everything Harris said. Harris began to describe what he saw at the apartment. "I went into the apartment, and it looked like he had packed a few things."
"So, you think there's some connection with this young man's disappearance and McBride?" the Mayor said in a much quieter voice.
"Yes, I do. Eddie does not seem the type to simply run."
"What's this guy's background?"
Harris tightened his lips across his teeth. Eddie's prior record was not going to help. "The guy's an orphan. Grew up getting smacked by nuns and started doing petty crimes. He was in a stolen car one night when a friend of his robbed a gas station. He served two years."
"Goddamn it, Harris."
Harris paced back and forth in the office for a moment. He had been in there numerous times and had never noticed the carpet had small marks where the nap was disturbed. This was an odd time to see this, but for some reason it came through. "I still don't think this guy did it."
"I think he did. Either way, he has to be caught."
"I hate calling the Feds. Makes it look like we messed up." As soon as he said it, he wished he could take the words back.
"You did mess up. Miserably. The man is guilty in my book. I know the law says innocent until proven guilty, but let's be honest. When a guy goes on the run, it's guilty until proven innocent. I don't know how you're going to keep your job after this. Look at this." He held up a copy of the edition that Harris had seen earlier. "Your name's all over this. This kind of crap keeps us out of office. I'm on the hook for it, too."
"I'll make the call. There's a picture in his file. We'll get it posted."
By the middle of the afternoon, Harris had contacted the BOI. They sent over a person to gather the information and begin putting the wanted notice together. It would be a few days before they could get the photonegative from Buffalo, but in the meantime, they started putting together the rest of the notice with all his vital statistics. They made plans to distribute the poster throughout the region and hit cities farther west. Harris and Thomas knew about where McBride's operation extended to, and they made an educated guess of where Eddie might be. They then began to look at various train lines and where they might lead. Unfortunately, the train system had grown so fast in the previous few years, in a week's time he could be most of the way across the country.
Harris returned to his office later that day, after many of the other workers had left. When he was getting ready to sit down at his desk, he noticed a piece of paper in the seat, stating that he was to call a certain number. The office secretary had long since realized that putting notes on his desk was useless, so she started putting them in his chair. He dialed the number and sat down as the phone on the other end rang. An older man answered.
"This is Jerry Harris returning your call, what can I do for you?" Harris said.
"Mr. Harris, I'm Larry O'Connor, we need to talk about Eddie Griffin. Would you like to come out to my house for a few minutes?" O'Connor said.
For a moment, Harris thought this was a prank call, but then he thought back to what he had heard about O'Connor. He had been seldom seen in a few years, though everyone knew he still controlled a vast organization. "We can talk over the phone. First, let me say, I don't deal with criminals in any way."
Harris heard a slight low laugh come over the phone. "Let's start by agreeing on a few things. We both want to bring McBride down."
This was a point of agreement, barely, thought Harris. "For different reasons. I want to stop him, and also, frankly, people like you, because of what you do. You want to stop McBride because he's in your same territory."
"All true," O'Connor said. "I can't disagree with you in any way."
"We agree on a relatively small point. Now, what about Eddie Griffin?" Harris said. He felt he had no patience for extended conversation, especially with a crime boss.
"I have Eddie. He's safe and will remain so," O'Connor said.
"Where?" Harris said, picking up a pencil, preparing to write down any information. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing. He decided to come on his own. He knew there was no way the cops could protect him. Am I right that you were going to arrest him?" O'Connor said.
"Yes. We have to," Harris said, setting the pen down.
"I think we both know it was only a matter of time before McBride got him. Do you think he's innocent?" O'Connor asked. Harris knew O'Connor had him on this point.
"A man is innocent until proven guilty, but some of the facts are confusing." Harris could not volunteer a true answer, since he himself was as unsure as he ever was.
"That's not much of an answer, so let me tell you what I want to do. Yes, I want McBride gone, and I want to take over his organization. I know Eddie is key to doing that. He saw the murder of that designer LaRue, and LaRue worked for me. I have to do this. Eddie was there at that woman's place, but he's McBride's pawn in this whole thing. If you can find a way to arrest McBride, I'll produce Eddie," O'Connor said.
"Real noble of you. Why would you help me?" Harris asked.
"I can produce evidence if it's needed. I have the star witness. I can save your career. Porter's, too."
"And I—we—would owe you for that," Harris said.
"It's always a negotiation. You're a lawyer; you know that," O'Connor said.
Though tempting, Harris had no intention of ever cutting these kinds of deals. "The BOI, state and local officials will be looking for him soon. I don't need your help."
"Feds," O'Connor said, almost snorting. "When have they ever stopped me?"
Harris knew O'Connor wielded more power and influence than anyone in that city, but Harris had few options except to let the BOI know. "Just promise me one thing: that you won't harm him."
"I have no reason to, but I can't guarantee anything. Eddie didn't do anything to me. However, McBride will be looking for him. Once they put a price on his head, every crooked sheriff will be watching, too. I can't control them. I'd recommend you not tell the Feds about this conversation; give your boy a better chance to survive."
O'Connor hung up. Dealing with criminals as partners was a quick way to an end. He was not so naïve as to think this did not happen, but he believed partnering with criminals had to end if there was any hope of stopping men like O'Connor and McBride. Harris crumpled up the phone message and tossed it at the trashcan. The wad of paper bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. He did not bother to pick it up. As he looked at the paper, he wondered if what O'Connor said about Eddie's safety was true. There was no need to tell the BOI that O'Connor was involved, but he could tell them where to look. Harris groaned and picked up the paper wad, thinking for some odd reason that he might need that number again. He smoothed the message out on the desk before putting it in his pocket.
26
Once the photos came in from Buffalo, Harris had his doubts whether t
hey would be good enough. Thomas was in his office when he opened the package. Harris handed the first one to him.
"Hm," Thomas said as he stared at the picture of the nineteen-year-old. "He's changed a lot in the last few years."
"It's all we got. Any way to touch up the photos?" Harris asked.
"I don't know. I can talk to the boys in the photo lab, but I don't think there's much we can do. We'll do our best with a good description."
They both thumbed through the pictures for a few minutes. "This is probably the best." Harris held up one of the mug shots. The quality was grainy, but many of the prison photos were like that. The last few years had seen a big improvement in photography, but some of the prisons and police departments still used older equipment and developing processes.
"Good as any," Thomas said. "I'll get it started."
A few minutes after Thomas left, BOI agent Henry Silvia was standing in his office, wanting information. They had met before under more agreeable circumstances. "Give me more on this, Jerry," he said, leaning on the desk.
"Haven't you read the reports?" Harris had sent carbon copies of the reports over to Henry a couple of days before.
"Come on, Jerry, anybody can read a report. There's always more on a person that can't be wrote down. Let's be honest here. We're both cops, right?"
Harris knew that Henry Silvia was aware of his background, and it did not include being a cop. He just wanted to hear Silvia say it. "Cut it out. You know I'm not a cop. I was elected to this office."
Henry pulled his hand off the desk and stood up straight. "Right. So tell me this: Why do my boys need to run all over the country looking for this guy? Why didn't you get him here?"
Harris stared at the man for few moments. He laughed. "You're so predictable. Do you know who Clarence McBride is?"
"Of course I do. We all know what he's about."
"I have a suspicion that Eddie Griffin is being set up by McBride." Henry was not known for being the quickest mind in law enforcement, but he was thorough. The man would want to know why they needed to do this, and the complete story.
"McBride might do that. But you have to admit, being an ex-con and having two dead bodies looks bad. What's McBride's deal in this?"
"Honestly, I think the only reason is to make us run around. When we look bad, he looks good. Me, especially. Seems to be working fairly well so far." Henry's outlook visibly changed. He took his fedora off and rolled it around in his hands.
"McBride's one mean, smart bastard. Thank God most of them are just mean. They're easier to catch. You're wanting to pin this on McBride, and the only way to do this is to bring this man in?"
"Exactly. I should have arrested him, just for his own protection." This went against everything he stood for, but the thought did cross his mind. If he could have locked him up somewhere, Eddie would at least be safer. "For all we know, he's already dead."
"Chances are he is. You only get a few days before the odds catch up. The longer he's out there, the worse off he is."
He had made too many mistakes on this one, and now he was doing the one thing that was hardest for him: ask for help. At least he felt Henry was now receptive to what they were trying to do. "How's the notice coming along?"
"It'll be ready tomorrow. We got the picture, and the printer's putting it together. We'll run off about a thousand copies and start putting them up in post offices and police stations."
"Okay. I've been thinking. If he ran west, what are the most likely places he would be?" Harris had been thinking about this since the morning he went to Eddie’s apartment and learned he was gone.
"Follow the train lines and highways. Maybe he knows people that way. He got friends that way?"
"A few. I'll let you know," Harris said.
"Sure." Henry toyed with his hat some more. "Anyone see him leave?"
"Nobody that wants to admit it." They both knew that dead ends were a common part of case like this, and the only choice was to keep investigating and hope that an idea or good piece of evidence turned up.
Henry put his hat back on. "We'll keep working it," he said, then went out of the door.
Harris heard him walk out his office and through the room outside his door. A few moments later, he heard the outer entry door open and close. Although he knew he had a considerable amount of manpower behind him, he felt as if he were out alone on this. His face was in the papers and his job that was in jeopardy if this continued to get out of control. Eddie will turn up, he told himself. He had to.
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